


gonna play you like a Gameboy

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Breathplay, Cheerleading Uniforms, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Feminization, Locker Room, M/M, Oikawa Tooru in a Skirt, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7318711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tooru loses a bet, and Hajime loses his sanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gonna play you like a Gameboy

**Author's Note:**

> sin.

“Surprise,” was the word that comes out of Tooru’s mouth. His tone was deflated, and he shifted awkwardly in front of Hajime. They were alone. It was far too early for the second and first years to arrive— they still had class— and Issei and Takahiro had landed themselves a hearty detention for forging the results of a physics experiment.

Hajime dropped his school bag. It echoed loudly in the empty locker room.

Tooru folded his arms, and then unfolded them in an effort to pull down that tiny, pleated navy skirt.

“What… you’re…” stuttered Hajime. His mouth was suddenly immensely dry, and it was difficult to say anything at all, let alone anything that would have made sense; Tooru stood before him— beautiful, gorgeous Oikawa Tooru— in a gold and navy uniform top that was far too short and exposed his abdomen nearly completely, and where it ended, the skirt began. It was pleated, and it flared just across the top of his thighs; his smooth, shaven— _shaven!_ — pale and soft thighs. He’d even worn the appropriate white socks; the ones that rose up to his calf, and white tennis shoes.

“I lost a bet.” Tooru said, “With Takahiro; I told him he’d get caught before handing in the report— for that whole forgery thing— but they only found out two weeks later. ‘s stupid,” he said in a low voice, leaning back against the lockers, “I’ll cancel practice, or call in sick, or something; I look hideous, I can’t—”

“You don’t look hideous.” blurted Hajime.

A tropical burn spread over his cheeks.

Tooru’s jaw slacked down, and his mouth formed a small, perfect little _oh_.

“Oh,” he voiced, then, “That’s— right.”

Hajime rubbed the back of his neck. He averted his gaze, though it was difficult; Tooru was always magnetic, and the fact that Hajime could see his underwear— tiny panties, _of course_ he’d go all the way; Oikawa Tooru did not half-ass things— made it even worse.

“Do you like it?” Tooru said in a low voice. He stepped closer, and the skirt swished around his thighs. Tooru stepped in front of Hajime, and with a shaking hand, Hajime rested his fingers on Tooru’s hip and thigh. Tooru arched his back a little, and bared his neck.

“I do like it.” Hajime retorted. Tooru grinned as Hajime’s fingers skimmed up and down his thighs.

“You’ve shaved,” Hajime stated.

“I have.”

Hajime leaned forward, and pressed open-mouthed kisses to Tooru’s neck, just underneath his ear. Tooru exhaled shakily, and gripped at Hajime’s shoulders.

“You look good,” breathed Hajime hotly over Tooru’s skin, “You look… you look _really_ good, babe.”

Tooru knocked back his head and moaned.

“Yeah?” he asked; it was so easy, doing this.

“Yeah,” agreed Hajime. His hand shifted, and as he bit a mark into Tooru’s shoulder and soothed his tongue over it, he cupped Tooru’s behind; it was soft and round, almost like a girl’s. Hajime sucked and licked across Tooru’s throat— surely leaving marks— as his hands roamed all over Tooru’s body. He could hear his breath get heavier, and Tooru could probably _feel_ it; they were incredibly close.

Tooru was warm all over, and Hajime’s fingers slid up and down Tooru’s legs as though he couldn’t get enough of them. Tooru hitched his leg up, and wrapped it around Hajime’s middle. Hajime slotted forward, and rolled his hips against Tooru’s. Tooru gasped at the sensation, and clawed desperately at Hajime’s shoulders; he was aching for something— _anything_ — that would release that burning desire deep inside his chest.

Tooru ground himself against Hajime as Hajime sucked harder at a spot underneath Tooru’s ear. He pulled away, then, to tear off his shirt, and Tooru leaned back in order to stare at him appreciatively; Hajime was gorgeous, and _his_ , and so Tooru roamed his palms up and down Hajime’s chest as Hajime leaned forward and kissed him for all he was worth.

“Hajime,” Tooru exhaled as Hajime mouthed along his jaw and cupped his groan, “Hajime— I need—”

“What do you need, baby?” rasped Hajime. His fingers trailed down Tooru’s aching cock, teasing at his hole. Tooru groaned and trembled in Hajime’s arms.

“I need you in me— or your mouth on me— or mine on yours— or something; _anything_.” he managed.

Hajime paused, and retracted to face Tooru. Tooru was flushed, and his chest heaved. He was beautiful.

“Fuck,” Hajime stuttered, “ _Fuck_ ; shit, Tooru— I— okay, yeah, sure; whatever you want.”

Tooru moaned. His legs were shaking as he stood and lead Hajime to the bench.

“Lie back, daddy.” Tooru spoke, “I want to ride you.”

Hajime swallowed thickly as Tooru dug around in his bag. He crouched down— his ass looked amazing, _God_ — and pulled out a bottle of lube and some condoms— more than one—and then stood. As Hajime watched him, he slowly hooked his fingers into the waistband of the white, tiny panties, and pulled them down. They fell and pooled around his ankles, and he stepped out of them. Hajime was sure he wasn’t breathing, at this point. 

“Fuck, baby,” Hajime groaned, unbuttoning his trousers and stroking his own aching, leaking cock at the sight, “You’re so hot; you’re amazing.”

Tooru grinned brilliantly as he straddled Hajime. Hajime’s palms pressed against Tooru’s thighs, and massaged his legs appreciatively as Tooru rolled his hips and dug his fingers into Hajime’s chest. His skirt swished around his hips and legs, and Hajime could feel his composure slip. He cupped Tooru’s ass, and Tooru made some sort of muffled moan.

Hajime let the tip of his finger press against Tooru’s hole, and Tooru mewled against him. He arched his back and ground his hips against Hajime’s.

“Fuck,” breathed Tooru, “Get the lube, _please_ ; I need you— I want you— I love you—”

Hajime popped open the bottle and let the liquid spread around his fingers.

“I love you, too,” he said in a voice far lower than he’d anticipated, and then pressed his finger more firmly. It slipped inside easily— Tooru was good, like that— and he pressed two inside. Tooru moaned loudly; he was flush, and he looked far too pleased with himself, though as Hajime curled his fingers and began to thrust them, the expression morphed into one entirely lax and bursting of pleasure and aching desperation.

Hajime gripped his ass tightly— tight enough to leave handprints that would last for days— and Tooru rolled his hips at the sensation, pushing Hajime’s fingers deeper into him. His skirt was tented, and a wet patch resulted on it. Hajime swore his entire body was on fire at the sight, and Tooru ground down against Hajime’s own aching cock. Hajime swore softly, and arched back as he thrust his fingers deeper until all that came out of Tooru’s mouth were broken moans of something that might have once been Hajime’s name.

Hajime slowed down, then, and retracted his fingers, and Tooru understood; he tore open the condom with shaking hands and pulled it down Hajime’s cock. The friction of Tooru’s wickedly slim and long fingers felt far too good; he bit back a groan at the sensation.

Tooru gripped the base of Hajime’s cock, and licked his lips as though it were his most favourite treat, and it _was_ , in way; it was no secret that Oikawa Tooru was the biggest cockslut Hajime ever had the absolute fortune to meet.

Tooru shimmied down, then, and knelt before Hajime’s groin. With no foreboding warning, he pressed the head of Hajime’s cock against his plush, kiss-swollen lips, before pulling back with a wicked grin and sticking out his tongue. He circled it around the head slowly, and his eyes slid shut, as though it were his most favourite thing in the entire world.

“ _Shit_ , babe,” hushed Hajime, “You’re so good; you’re the _best_ … you’re so fuckin’ perfect— _fuck_ —”

Tooru’s tongue slid downward, and he wrapped his lips around the tip completely, twisting and bobbing his head and sucking. The heat of Tooru’s mouth felt incredible, even through the condom. His hand held Hajime’s cock tightly as he moved down further, pushing Hajime’s aching cock deeper into his mouth. His tongue slid against the underside, and elicited obscene wet sounds that made Hajime’s mouth water and heart rate sky-rocket.

Then Tooru opened his eyes, and tightened his lips around Hajime’s cock, and exhaled a small, muffled moan as he swallowed around it. Spit dribbled from his chin.

“ _Fuck_ , baby,” swore Hajime in a broken voice, “I’m gonna come— gonna fuckin’ come if you don’t stop, I don’t think I can—”

Tooru pulled his mouth away, then, with a small _pop_ and stared at Hajime with a pleased and satisfied expression.

Hajime watched him carefully, and then, what little sanity he had left disappeared into thin air; he pulled Tooru up close to him once more. Tooru rested his forehead against his.

“Good?” he breathed.

“Always.” Hajime replied.

Tooru sat up straight and proud, and rocked forward before gripping the base of Hajime’s cock and holding him steady as he guided him towards his entrance. Hajime stared up at him as he did so, for Tooru was pretty at worst and absolutely breathtakingly beautiful at best; he was positively ethereal, now, as he sunk down on Hajime’s cock with the tiniest gasps. His mouth fell open, and he took in a quick breath as he sunk further. His fingers tried to hold onto Hajime’s chest as he exhaled, titled his head back, and smiled a little at the sensation. Tooru was hot and tight, and Hajime made a noise akin to a dying man’s last breath as he slid down completely. 

Tooru rocked forward and his breath hitched audibly. Hajime moaned and knocked his head back, palms gripping onto Tooru’s hips in an effort to get him to move; when he did move, Hajime saw stars. Tooru lifted his ass and bowed forward a little before sliding back down, ever so slowly and then faster until his thighs shook from the effort.

The hem of Tooru’s skirt tickled Hajime’s thighs as Tooru pushed himself up. His thrusts were shallow— a side-effect of them doing it like this— and all Hajime wanted to do was slam into Tooru. He wanted to flip them over, and push Tooru’s knees up to his chest and just fuck him— hard and fast— or maybe from behind. He’d look gorgeous in that little skirt, with his ass worn and red, and Hajime choke him. Tooru’d like that.

“I would,” Tooru gasped. It was then that Hajime noticed he’d said everything out loud. Tooru braced his hands on Hajime’s chest. “I changed my mind,” he said, “I want you to fuck me; fuck me like you want to, daddy.”

Tooru pulled out, and ignited a hiss from both of them. His eyes met Hajime’s, and Hajime inhaled a shaking breath as he gripped Tooru’s hips and guided him to the let his back rest against the bench. Hajime settled above him, and he was sure his thighs would cramp terribly after this, Hajime thought, though it’d be worth it; it always was.

Tooru’s ass pressed against his groin as Tooru scooted forward; he was eager. The skirt fell down a little, and Tooru’s ass was already a little red. It was gorgeous. _Tooru_ was gorgeous, and when Hajime told him as much, he keened and threw his head back.

Hajime pressed the head of his cock against Tooru’s hole, and slid in with perhaps a little too much vigour, though that was fine; Tooru liked the pain. He’d told him so before, and Tooru moaned loudly at the sensation.

Palms on either side of Tooru’s head, Hajime began to move; deep and fast and hard, just the way he knew Tooru’s liked it. Tooru’s smooth, long legs trembled against his hips.

 “ _Fuck_ ,” sighed Tooru, his voice cracking and pitch increasing in an octave, “Shit— shit, shit, _shit_ —”

“You’re so loud; maybe I should gag you, or choke you,” Hajime said lowly, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would,” sobbed Tooru, “Please— I…”

Hajime pressed his fingers against his throat. Oozes of precome dripped from Tooru’s leaking cock. Hajime thrust faster at the sight, and Tooru arched his back underneath him as he trembled.

“Shit,” Tooru choked, “Daddy— _yes_ , just like that— ‘m close— feels so good—”

Obscene noises echoed in the room. Hajime pressed his hips against Tooru’s— as deep as he could— and rolled his hips; just the way he knew Tooru liked it.

“You look so good,” Hajime groaned, “You’re gorgeous— _fuck_ , baby; I’m stupid in love with you— God— just _come_.”

And Tooru did; Hajime tightened his hold on his throat and Tooru bent forwards as he released with a broken, desperate sob. Hajime came soon after; the sight of Tooru in that skirt _breaking_ beneath him was other-worldly.

Tooru collapsed. Hajime had to hold him up in his arms so that he could pull out of him carefully. He turned Tooru around, then, and Hajime watched Tooru gasp and try to regain his breath; marks blossomed all over his throat and neck and collarbone, from Hajime’s fingers or lips. Hajime traced them tentatively with shaking fingers.

“You’re beautiful.” he told him.

Tooru grinned at him. Hajime fell in love all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> point out any typos if u see 'em :)


End file.
